When logic fails ...

The Game begins

She sank down onto the chair beside him just as he opened the laptop. "So, your original file really was gone, but I managed to program this for you. With it, you should have everything back together within a few hours," he explained professionally. With a focused look he opened the newly created program and began meticulously explaining how it worked.

He was so in his element that he blocked out everything around him. He showed her in detail how to select the necessary data, where to find the results, which key combinations triggered which effects, and finally how to display the diagrams. Only then did it strike him that Naruto would never have been able to explain this to her.

That Temari had moved a little closer only dawned on him when her warm skin brushed his arm in passing. The touch was hardly more than a whisper, yet it sent a strange pull through his upper abdomen that made him flinch involuntarily. He quickly stretched and shifted his position so there was no direct contact anymore, while trying to keep his composure.

One last time he went through everything in his head before getting up. "Alright. I think that's everything. If you still have questions... well, you know where to find me," he said, reaching for his bag.

Temari stood up as well to clear the empty glass from the table. At the same time Shikamaru moved past her, and in the next second Temari found her hand resting on his chest. It was an accident, since neither had paid attention to the other's movements. Both froze for a heartbeat, surprised by the unexpected closeness. Their eyes met, fleeting but intense.

"Oh... I'm sorry," Temari whispered, withdrawing her hand, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.

Shikamaru stumbled a step back at the same time, cleared his throat and tried to play down the sudden agitation. "It... it's nothing," he muttered, clutching his bag tighter before finally moving toward the door.

Then he suddenly stopped mid-motion. On the shelf in front of him he had spotted something that instantly caught his attention. Slowly he stepped closer, his fingers brushing almost reverently over the solid wood. He had never seen such a fine, high-quality shōgi board.

Unbidden, he remembered the day his father had given him one. It had been flimsy, folding in the middle, and the wood grain had looked dull. But for him it had been the greatest gift he had ever received. They had never had much money, and precisely because of that this simple board had been his pride and joy. It wasn't beautiful, but it was his. For hours he had weighed the worn playing pieces in his hands as if they were made of pure gold.

Now his fingertips slid across the golden general before him. This board was crafted from fine hardwood, heavy, solid, adorned with delicate carvings. He had never seen anything so unique.

"Do you play?" he asked into the room without turning, his eyes still fixed on the board and all its many details. Still, he could sense her standing close behind him.

"Yes, but not very well. I used to play occasionally against my brothers... but that was ages ago." She reached past him and took the board from the shelf. "How about a game? Maybe a little break will help me focus better afterwards."

When he turned toward her, he found she had already set the board on the low coffee table. She didn't seem to be waiting for his reaction at all, already busy arranging the pieces.

A silent grin spread across Shikamaru's lips. "Alright, but only a quick round," he agreed. He placed his bag back on the chair and sat down opposite her. With practiced fingers he positioned all his pieces.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched her, and within seconds he had already devised a strategy. To his delight, Temari set her first piece exactly as he had expected, and promptly fell into the trap he had prepared.

A quiet, tense atmosphere settled between them, but then Shikamaru murmured after the fifth round, "Tsumi." In record time he had immobilized Temari and won the game.

Temari stared at the board in disbelief. "That can't be... that was five moves at most!" she protested and began checking his moves for correctness.

Shikamaru only grinned at her mischievously. "The first move is usually a feint. It's easiest to land a hit with the second move... I just gave you a little more time so the game wouldn't be over even faster," he retorted, already making to get up.

Temari's hand shot forward and closed around his wrist. "Wait, not so fast. After a round like that I definitely deserve a rematch!" she demanded with a serious undertone, holding his gaze challengingly.

Wordlessly, Shikamaru sat back down in front of the shōgi board and began setting it up again. That Temari could not measure up to him in this game he had realized after her very first move, but he enjoyed having a real opponent in front of him again. His friends usually bolted the moment they even saw the shōgi board. Except for Naruto, who still hadn't grasped the complex rules even after years, Shikamaru had long given up on him as a potential opponent.

"But really just one more round. I've got something else to do," Shikamaru mumbled, though the thought of playing against her more often pleased him. He cupped his chin between thumb and forefinger while waiting for her move.

This time Temari opened with a rather untypical move. Once again, he could have beaten her effortlessly in fewer than five turns, but something held him back. The way she sat across from him, brow slightly furrowed, biting her lower lip in concentration. He decided to at least give her the feeling that she was truly playing. Patiently he waited as she gradually maneuvered herself into a corner, before softly saying "Tsumi" again.

"Ha, but that went way better than the first round! And you'll see, one day I'm going to beat you," Temari declared triumphantly, even though she had just suffered her second defeat.

Shikamaru leaned back, let his gaze wander briefly over the board and raised one eyebrow. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Maybe. But until then it's going to take quite a few more games."

For a moment he remained seated, as if wanting to imprint the image of her—focused and slightly defiant—into his memory. Then he finally grabbed his bag and stood up slowly. "I should get going, the others upstairs are probably already waiting for me."

As he walked to the door, he felt her gaze on his back. He forced himself not to stop, not to turn around. She was just being nice and friendly, simply the neighbor from downstairs, he reminded himself. He couldn't allow himself to waste time on thoughts of things that would never happen. Still, a strange pull remained, as though he had left something unfinished behind.